Compact
by Prime Revolver
Summary: My look and thought's on numerious canon character's. Right now; mostly G1 centric. Pointless short-stories that really have nothing to do with each other. I fell victim to the 'rapid pigmy plot-bunny attack' I guess. First up: Newcomer.
1. Time

**'verse/series**: G1 (for simplicity)

**Rating**: PG

**Main Char.**: Vector Prime

**Warnings**: none, hinting to char. death.

**Notes**: I find Vector Prime's perdiciment as (imo) more servant to time than master intriguing. Have to thank _Balancing Act_ for that. . .somehow.

**oOoOo++++oOoOo**

I sit here watching the small blue planet before me slowly drift by just content to do so. At first glance, it appeared to be just like any other planet I had come across before. Quiet and calm seemly just another un-sentient baring rock sphere. At second glance though his planet, is different. . .special. It's one of the rare ones in the many galaxies that I've traveled through in my time.

It contains life for one.

It contains a vast and complex ecosystem from its salt waters to the avians that glide through its air streams. This planet is old and has already gone through billions of years worth of change. The life it has grown and nurtured most recently though, is young and naive still. Yet they have come so far in such short time that they have been around, which has not been long. It is a impressive feet for a sentient race that hasn't been around for very long. Despite this, already so much has happened to reshape their history.

oOoOo

It's a funny thing really. Time. I have the power to control time, yet my abilities to use them are quite limited. Some believe you change time and it be just that simple. It is not. You cannot take time and just change it, it's to delicate for that. And tempermental it would seem. One false calculation and you could change something whether it be the past or the future, good or bad. There is a far more higher chance the change will be negative.

Sometimes I am forced to remain at the side lines, far away yet still in visual distance, and do nothing as a planet, planets, or even solar systems' die. . .much like this one. That happens more often than I care to remember. Unfortunately it is not very often that I am able to intervene, and yes, I have on occasion intervened when I shouldn't have.

I have watched planets, much like the one before be now, die and not be able to do any thing about it.

oOoOo

This planet is special.

In all the multiple universes' I have visited in my time this one is one of the ones that is the oldest. Remaining closes to its original form. Unscathed by. . .outside forces. All the other's seem to return back to their homage in tribute. But right now despite how special it is, it is going through a time, one that will remain many of its inhabitants minds for years to come, as its darkest hours. Like the saying goes though; when one door shuts another one will open in its place. A new book with fresh pages. This one just opening to its beginning chapter and doesn't even know it yet. For me; it is a bitter sweet moment.

I sit here, optics dark, feeling time passing around me, feeling the changing fluxes on the planet's surface through the hands of.

Waiting.

I online my optics feeling sorrow now. I don't look around me, at my sides even though I can feel the presence of something that would have a normal person upset. At either of my sides one black one white, fog-like substance like flowing silk cloaks creep around me on the large asteroid I've taken rest on. They're like creatures all their own, moving despite no wind or air around them with edges similar to clawed grabbing hands eager for something I could not say.

Out of the black and white fog two mech-like forms take shape, both identical to the other except in color. Silent, calm, serious, and unyielding any secrets they may possess. Almost like living statues. The black one speaks even without a visible mouth.

_"He has passed into the Matrix,"_ it/he states faintly.

I don't have to ask whom, I know. Nor how, because I know that as well. Sometimes being the master of time isn't always a gift. It's one I've long since accepted, both as a gift and a curse. A burden of sad reality on my shoulders.

The white one speaks next, voice distant. _"At the moment,"_ it begins _"you are the last Prime, Vector."_

_What an odd fact_, I think to myself. Not because it _is_ a fact, I already know this, but because was it making absent. . .idle chat. _Life_ and _Death_ did no 'idly chat' or speak of something repeatedly when it is already known.

"Yes. . .at the moment."

**oOoOo+++oOoOo**

I lost the original dabble for this. . .which I thought was far more epic, somewhat. So I just jotted down what I remembered in whatever order. It originally was suppose to focus on the idea of alternate universes that the tf fandom has to deal with through Vector Prime and around the Generation One Universe (the cartoon).

**Disclaimer**: _Not beta'd. Please review. Constructive crit. welcomed. Now flames, please. The plot & dabble are mine._

**Original Post Date**: 2009, Sep. 6th


	2. Control

**'verse/series**: G1/Headmasters (for simplicity)

**Rating**: PG

**Main Char.**: Galvatron

**Warnings**: none, hinting to char. death.

**Notes**: Taken from _The Myster of the Planet Master_ from _TF: The Headmasters_. If you haven't seen it, you may not understand it completely.

**oOoOo++++oOoOo**

Galvatron valued control greatly for his own uses. It was control over his army that remained one of his most glorious triumphs. It was frigid control forged by fear, power, and knowledge that Galvatron was superior. It kept mechs in line and in their places where they should be.

The statement alone was its own irony. Galvatron had control but lacked it over himself all together. Mentally in-stable, prone to sudden hostility without no apparent provocation. Not even 'allies' where safe from his wrath. Over excessively violent. Insane, rash, uncontrollable. . .the list was large.

Watching the monitor that was showing a battle that he was not participating in except as spectator, he felt his grip on control _slip_. At first it was just slightly, only a fraction. And it wasn't the same kind of control that he was use to using against enemies and keeping his soldiers in line. As the mortal battle continued he didn't realize it was uselessness grabbing at the back of his processor. In those moments, for the first time since his own mortal enemies resurrection, he actually felt more in control of himself. But also in those moments, felt like he possessed none whatsoever.

It was the line between insanity and _sanity_.

It was then he silently realized that perhaps Soundwave was more of an asset than he realized before. Not to the Decepticon cause itself but to Galvatron. Soundwave had always been there, said a long suppressed side of Galvatron's processor. Loyal in his own way. He'd staid despite the changing tides of war and the new era where the past had stopped and the new one beginning had begun. He'd staid despite Megatron's death and Galvatron's rise.

Just like now, as he watched the monitor, coming to some sort of conclusion, what had now become the past had been stopped. . .he was going to make sure the new beginning, _began_.

**oOoOo+++oOoOo**

This _isn't_ slash/yaoi, or at least isn't meant to hint at it, but if you want to look at it that way, have at it. This came from after I watched part of that episode and my impression from Galvatron. I see more of a friendship/loyalty thing going on. Whatever.

Check out my profile for further info. these dabbles

**Disclaimer**: _Not beta'd. Please review. Constructive crit. welcomed. Now flames, please. The plot & dabble are mine._

**Original Post Date**: 2009, Sep. 11th


	3. Arms

**'verse/series**: G1 (for simplicity)

**Rating**: PG

**Main Char.**: . . .

**Warnings**: . . .slash? If you interpret it that way.

**oOoOo++++oOoOo**

'How' or perhaps 'when' he had gotten into this situation or more correctly how this situation had brought itself to him, he'd long since forgotten. What he did know was that he kept coming back to its door for nutrients like a starved stray cat who barely lived off meager insects.

What he was doing went against everything be believed in, yet he returned like an addict. That was what he was; an addict.

They believed he hated Decepticons.

He did!

He spent his waking hours doing everything in his power to make sure their home wasn't infiltrated or attacked. And if an attack was likely at least he'd see it coming to give his team a chance to prepare. They didn't know it; most would deny it while other's didn't believe it. They said that he didn't trust them. He didn't. . .but he _did_. For the first time in his existence after leaving sparklinghood he trusted them to keep him alive despite his paranoia. He cared for them as friends, whether they believed his claim or not.

Yet here he was.

Strong thick dermal plated arms where present placed around his middle; firm but nonthreatening. An underside of a chin rested on the inward arch of his neck. He himself was resting between a pair of large strong legs; both were far larger than his own.

Instead of fear he felt protected and secure; nothing could touch him.

Nothing would dare.

He had his back against a broad strong chest.

He was in the arms of the enemy.

There was mutual agreement between them. Despite how dangerous, their neutrality was they wore different badges. Nevertheless they'd each agree that no information would be exchanged regarding the others side. Just simple chatter. Small talk. Kind nothings. The other's presence.

Just as that was mutual, so was their contact. It never grew further than holding the other and touching. He came here to get a break from his raging mind and anxieties. He let the mech get into the edges of his conscious, calming him.

**oOoOo+++oOoOo**

I would have written more, but I ended up stopping for whatever reason and when I came back I realized I left my muse behind. Sorry. When ever I go find it or it returns I'll add what else I wanted. Maybe. Don't r/m what spawned this. Just wrote it down. You can use _whatever_ mech's you want to place, though Red Alert is whom I'm aiming for as one, the other will remain nameless. This'll proably be the first and last time I ever post up anything that hints at slash so much that it hurts w/o actually truly being so(in some ppls minds). It could be brotherly, friends, anything but...yeah.

**Disclaimer**: _Not beta'd. Please review. Constructive crit. welcomed. Now flames, please. The plot & dabble are mine._

**Original Post Date**: 2009, Aug. 27th


	4. Game

**'verse/series**: G1 (for simplicity)

**Rating**: PG

**Main Char.**: Smokescreen

**Warnings**: Innuendo!

**oOoOo++++oOoOo**

He was the one that taught Smokescreen about 'The Game'.

He had been the one to introduce him to the fact that life is nothing but a game; a dangerous, potentially _deadly_ one. That 'The Game' is _Life_ itself. Filled with chances, gambles, truths and dares. Jeopardy and Hang Man.

That no matter what, everyone was a chess piece that could easily be moved to someones benefit, success, or downfall. Even if you didn't know about 'The Game', you played it anyway, whether you like it or not. Those who knew of it, accepted it, where the ones destined for the win or the fail.

_Do not pass go. Do not collect $200_.

Sometimes they choose to take a step further and actually _participate_ and draw their first card.

Despite how dangerous the game was; you should get some fun out it. Adrenaline. It was _just_ a game after all. That you shouldn't treat it but with so much seriousness, because if you did treat it like paper money you set yourself up for bankruptcy of the serious kind. If you let 'The Game' get to you, let it get inside your head, you had limited chances of winning.

Paranoia and fear was no way to win 'The Game' that everyone played. It was no way to stay sane, to keep a poker face while rolling the dice.

**oOoOo+++oOoOo**

If anyone wants to carry this further, be my guest. PM me first for details.

Firstly, I'm not talking about 'The Game' that I'm sure that first popped into your head. It's something _completely different_ (and more mature) and inspired buy a book I actually never finished called _The Zero Game_ by Brad Meltzer. Here I'm referring to the game that is _life _(as stated above), kill or be killed/fight or live, etc etc.

Sorry I didn't post this last night. Just never got around to it.

**Disclaimer**: _Not beta'd. Please review. Constructive crit. welcomed. Now flames, please. The plot & dabble are mine._

**Original Post Date**: 2009, Oct. 8th


	5. Newcomer

**'verse/series**: G1 (for simplicity)

**Rating**: PG

**Main Char.**: Blaster

**Warnings**: none

**oOoOo++++oOoOo**

Seating at his station in the monitoring dome Blaster kicked his feet back and forth freely in the air as he gazed up at the sky above him. While the sky that he saw was legitimate it was also fake. The plasma screens that surrounded him except on the floor below was linked with outside sensor-like cameras. They were unnecessary and rather redundant, so he'd been told many times before, he took it to stride, and often agreed (mostly to get a good laugh out of seeing the other mechs face), but he was proud of his genius anyway.

Okay, it wasn't completely his handy work really, he wasn't that versed in that kind of delicate, complicated engineering. Wheeljack and Teletran, for the majority of the part, and a few others 'Bots had helped.

Wheeljack had mostly helped because that sort of work was right up his alley and couldn't resist the temptation. While Teletran did it in that he was one of the senior officers in communications and security.

Putting the small container of energon to his lips Blaster let his mind wonder over that and several other things he'd recently come to learn. Being that he was also one of the 'senior' communications and semi-security officers he often got hold of data of various types containing new recruits and immigrates from Cybertron coming to Earth and planned on living here at Autobot City.

This time though it wasn't just a simple list of 'Bot's from Cybertron that wanted off the planet. This time the list had been extremely short and. . .special. This time the higher-ups had requested a mech and not the other way around. What really had gathered Blaster's attention was that the mech was a Host, like him. It had been ages since he'd last seen a mech that was Host. Not mentioning he had not know, he and Soundwave weren't the last, after all.

It was mystifying. How could Blaster, a mech that strived on knowing everything that needed to be known (or at least gathered the red boom boxes attention anyway) not know about another Host? An Autobot one at that!

Well that wasn't completely correct, the mech had been a neutral. Neutral's were neutral for a reason: they didn't believe in the war. They also had strong beliefs which often prevented them from fighting. Once you choose a faction it would stay with you, badge or no badge. Perhaps he was planning on being one again, an Autobot that is.

Now that he sat back and thought over it; it made it a little less surprising that he hadn't known about the mech. Neutral's weren't very liked mech's during war time. While Autobot's said they treated them as equals or at least civilians. Blaster, and many more, knew that was a lie. Though, Blaster held no ill against neutrals he knew other's did. The Decepticon's on the other hand held no qualms with their distaste for them.

A thin absent minded smile slowly crossed Blaster's smooth faceplate thinking about not being the only Host around anymore. He didn't have a problem being the only one, Autobot anyway, but it was kind of a. . .fun thing to think about. It had been a while sense he'd last seen a Host like him who wouldn't rather shoot him in the head than chat. Humming a nameless tone to himself he thought about swapping experiences and stories now with this new 'Bot and not get looked at funny.

The new 'Bot, would be arriving to Autobot City in about a day, probably less depending if there isn't any complications. The mech would be working with him sense he was also a communications expert though not really the same kind as Blaster. From what he read of his files he worked more with communications maintenance/upgrade and security. He knew how to refit any communications and the like with the most up-to-date systems and parts or improve what was already there.

Being as that Autobot City wasn't constantly in direct contact with Cybertron and it could take up to a month for 'Bot's to get to Earth. It was valuable time waisted doing nothing. And with new Autobot outpost's being built around Earth it was best to make sure the new outpost's were up to date and then some.

Blaster would normally be assigned to do such things but he was more of use here at Autobot City. While yes; this new 'Bot was known to staying well up to date, Blaster smirked, none were faster or better at getting messages through and blocking out Soundwave than _The Voice, _afterall.

**oOoOo+++oOoOo**

Notes: Only contains musings of a canon character about an OC. Said OC is not actually present. The bunny/muse bite me and wouldn't let me go so blame it not me, 'kay.

**Serious Notes**: Just for those who don't know. Usually you'll see in my fics Teletraan-I and Teletran. These are two seperate things _when it comes to my fics_ usually. _Teletraan-I_ (proper) is the Ark's computer, Teletran(not proper) is a mech's personality/character that I came up with, and for one or two that know what he actually look's like, designed. Don't take my idea, plz.

Secondly; the idea of 'Host' is not my idea (or what I get it of it). . .I yoinked it a sometime while back from another fic that I should have written down the title and author but I didn't. Of course I kinda made it into something of my own if I ever explain further, which I proably wont ever do. If anyone knows the fic/author, do tell and I'll cred. kthx

I said I wouldn't put any OC's in this. . .technically I haven't and this'll be as far as I ever go with this. So yeah~~

Lastly; this'll be my last short-one-shot for. . .a while. I'm going to set this as 'complete' until I find my lost muse. Toodles :)

**Disclaimer**: _Not beta'd._ _Please review! Constructive crit. welcomed. Now flames, please. The plot & dabble are mine._

**Original Post Date**: 2009, Jul. 9th


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